


Bad Idea

by Ever-so-reylo (Ever_So_Reylo)



Series: The Rise of Skywalker One Shots [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cold Weather, Dry Humping, F/M, Huddling For Warmth, Millennium Falcon - Freeform, Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 02:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17071718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ever_So_Reylo/pseuds/Ever-so-reylo
Summary: More slowly than he probably should, he takes off his boots and puts his saber next to hers on the small surface by the bed. Then he lingers for a moment, staring at the scene and trying to subdue the half-existential, half-erotic pleasure that coalesces inside him at the sight. Before Luke attempted to take him out, before Snoke’s voice became so loud inside his head, Kylo fancied himself a scholar of sorts. The symbolism of their weapons laid out so close that they’re almost touching is impossible to miss, just like the almost obscene pleasure it incites in him, and he really, really should not go anywhere near her with his hands itching to just—“You coming?”Or:It might be very cold on the Falcon, but huddling together for warmth is still a terrible idea.





	Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this fic a few months ago for the Babies at the Border Anthology, back when the first few EPIX photos leaked and neither Rey not Kylo seemed to be in them (which prompted a few people to speculate that maybe they were off to some kind of mission together). Anyway, those speculations are what inspired the fic. Thanks to the organizers of the Anthology, and all my love and gratitude to [LoveofEscapism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveofEscapism/pseuds/LoveofEscapism) for the amazing Beta and encouragement, and to [ReyloConvert](https://reylo-convert.tumblr.com/) for explaining the difference between 'having it out' and 'having it off'!  
> Also, thanks to my very own Elizabeth Swann, [Reylolujah](https://reylolujah.tumblr.com/), for making the banner(s)!  
> Also, please check out the other Reylo fic that was part of the anthology, which is delightful and amazing and I really loved it! It's called [Joy Writing by strawberrycupcake_huckleberrypie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16970943/chapters/39886839) and you 100% want to read it ♡♡♡.

 

 

The problem is the cold. 

That is—Kylo has about ten billion problems at this stage, but the most pressing, the one that has him grit his teeth, tense his spine and clench his fingers around the hydrospanner, is the cold. 

“Are you almost done?”

“The hyperdrive is—”

“—about to explode?”

He grunts as he pulls the panel shut and closes the circuit. “I think I fixed it. What about the sensor dish?” He emerges from under the compartment and Rey is—smiling at him.

Which is new. And a bit odd, not because it’s new, but because her teeth are clearly chattering. Earlier, when the temperature began to drop he gave her his shawl and even his gloves, though neither seems to have done much to improve the situation. Instinctively, Kylo pulls within himself for some additional help. 

“That’s fixed, too. I think we’re good. For now, at least.”

Kylo pushes a few buttons and resets the monitoring console. “This ship is even more of a hunk of junk than I remember.”

“You know, upkeep of the Falcon would be much easier if we weren’t forced to hold stuff together with tape because the Resistance is cut off from trading outposts. Because everyone in the galaxy is too scared to cooperate with us.” She looks at him pointedly, obviously in search of some kind of reaction. Kylo doesn’t comply. “Anyway. Systems should be rebooting and getting back to normal.”

He nods. “How long?”

“Probably—” Rey tightens the shawl around her shoulders as she leans in to look at the monitor “—ten hours or so? Which would still leave us plenty of time to get to Ord Mantell.”

They are due there in forty hours; on a mission that is so dangerous and harebrained that has Kylo wondering if temporarily joining forces with the Resistance is by far the most idiotic idea he’s ever had—even though it might very well be the only way to prevent Hux from turning the galaxy into the shitshow he’s clearly aiming for.

Except that, of course, it’s not quite the Resistance Kylo’s allying himself with. It’s Rey.   

“The environmental controls are picking up again, too. I think the temperature is getting better.”

“It’s not. Unless someone tinkered with it in the past twenty years, it’ll be the last system to go back online.” It’s apparent that by now, Rey knows the Falcon well, but—not like Kylo. Never like Kylo. It’s muscle memory for him, engraved in his brain when it was still plastic and soft, since before he was a toddler. 

Rey is frowning. “But I feel warm. I can actually move my fingers.”

“That’s me.” Kylo shrugs. “Well. It’s the Force.”

“What?”

“I’m keeping you warm.”

“Oh.” She flushes a bit. “Thank you.”

For some unknown reason, Kylo is having issues holding her gaze now. So he wipes his hands on the dark blue pants he just changed into—being Supreme Leader comes with some notoriety, and Rey insisted on him throwing out what she referred to as the ‘lord of darkness’ look—and then pulls a bit at his own sleeve as he mutters, “I’m not doing it for you. The sound of teeth chattering was annoying me.” 

It’s complicated, _this_. All of this. They’ve been enemies, and then something altogether different that Kylo doesn’t think he could define as ‘friends’, and then enemies again in a possibly even more contentious way. She’d shut the bond Snoke had opened after Crait, and he’d hated her with burning intensity for how silent and empty his head had felt. But a few days earlier, after deciding that joining forces was probably smarter than failing separately, she’d cracked it open again, with the result that now he doesn’t know how to _be_ with her, in her proximity, without—

“How are you doing it? The heat.”

“It’s a variant of pyrokinesis.” He thinks. He’s not sure, it’s not something he was ever formally taught.

“How do you—”

He wouldn’t know how to put it in words, so he just beckons Rey into his mind to show her. Which, as far as ideas goes, fits beautifully into the sea of bad ideas he’s had over the past few days. There is something oddly intimate, about this. No—intimate is not the right word. There’s always been an odd sort of intimacy between them, because of what they _are_ , Kylo supposes. But having her tentatively inch inside his mind and look around like this, because he explicitly invited her and she accepted his summons…it’s positively sexual. Filthy, almost. 

Kylo feels himself begin to get hard. 

“I see how you… I _see_ it, but I can’t do it.” Her brow is furrowed. 

“It’s fine. It takes a while. I can take care of you.” Which is probably not a smart thing to say, since they’re _both_ blushing now. He didn’t mean it like that. Or maybe he did. He truly doesn’t have a clue.

He clears his throat and turns towards the console. “You should sleep while we wait for the Falcon to be usable again. The moon is deserted, and this corridor is so out the way that no one is going to just stumble here. It’s safe.” 

Here’s a good idea. Half-decent, at least. It doesn’t make up for the idiocy of this mission or for putting himself in the situation of being alone with Rey again, but if she were to go to sleep it would get her out his sight—and possibly, though unlikely, even out of his thoughts—for a few hours at least. Kylo is almost pleased with himself.

“Okay.” Rey’s tone is uncertain.

“I’ll stay in the cockpit and keep watch.”

“Shouldn’t you sleep, too?”

He freezes in the act of pulling up the system overview on the control panel. “If I sleep, I can’t keep you warm.”

Rey frowns. “You need to sleep just as much as I do,” she tells him with that reasonable tone she must have developed some time in the past year or so.

“I’m fine.”

“But you do.”

“It’s a simple matter of logistics, I can’t make sure that you don’t freeze to death if I go to sleep, so—”

“You can if you sleep with me.”

“I don’t see how that would—”

“If we warm each other up.”

He thinks, in the loud silence that follows, that Rey maybe wants to take it back. Kylo sure wishes she would.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea—”

“Please. Let’s just… I’m really tired.”

“Right. Which is why you should—”

“But I’ll feel terrible if you have to stay awake. I won’t be able to sleep. I—please. I thought we said we were…” She bites into her lip. “…Allies. At least for this mission.”

He can feel a muscle clench in his jaw. “Allies don’t sleep in the same bed.”

Rey is staring at him like he’s being unreasonable and foolish. “Not if the environmental system works, no.”

He sighs. And then shrugs, because—this, _this_ is the most idiotic idea Kylo has ever heard, and he uses a saber built around a cracked kyber crystal on a daily basis. But she offered, and he hasn’t slept since he found out about Hux’s plan—some three days ago—and they really will need to be at the top of their game once they arrive to Ord Mantell. And yet, all of this doesn’t even matter, because if he acquiesces, he won’t be doing it in consideration of any of these very sound reasons, but because… he wants to.

The possibility that either of them will die in the next two days is so solid, Kylo can almost touch it. He has never been afraid of death, but the idea that something might happen to Rey is terrifying. So:

“Fine.”

That sea of bad ideas—it’s rapidly becoming an ocean. 

Rey nods. “Okay.”

Kylo keeps busy, trying not think about the fact that Rey is taking her hair down, or rummaging in all the compartments of the sleeping area looking for covers that they’ll share, or climbing into the alcove bed to lie down. He checks one last time that the systems reboot is progressing smoothly, and then again, and a third time because why not; after that he activates the sensors that’ll tell them if anyone approaches the Falcon—no one will, they left no trace behind—and then there is just nothing else for him to buy time with.

More slowly than he probably should, he takes off his boots and puts his saber next to hers on the small surface by the bed. Then he lingers for a moment, staring at the scene and trying to subdue the half-existential, half-erotic pleasure that coalesces inside him at the sight. Before Luke attempted to take him out, before Snoke’s voice became so loud inside his head, Kylo fancied himself a scholar of sorts. The symbolism of their weapons laid out so close that they’re almost touching is impossible to miss, just like the almost obscene pleasure it incites in him, and he really, _really_ should not go anywhere near her with his hands itching to just—

“You coming?”

Kylo nods and lifts the covers, feeling the thin mattress of the cot dip under his weight. Bundled as she is, Rey still manages to seem very small beside him. And very cold. He will need to get closer—as in, actually _close_ to her, if they’re going to warm each other up. Since that was the plan. He inches towards her, trying not to think about his father, about the fact that he was probably conceived in this bed, trying not remember that the last time he and Rey were this physically proximate they were fighting side by side; for those long minutes he was almost convinced that after their battle he would— _they_ would— 

“Do you think you were conceived in this bed?”

“Fuck, Rey.”

She laughs, low in her throat, and though it’s not the first time he hears her do it, it’s definitely the first time she does it _with_ him. It makes her relax and burrow a little closer, and almost automatically Kylo presses her into himself, slotting her head onto his throat and wrapping his arm around her waist. Rey sighs, and he can feel her breath warming his skin.

He is not manipulating the Force anymore, but he’s not cold now, not at all.

“Well. Han and Leia would be happy. If they… you know.”

“That we’re stranded on the third moon of a bumfuck planet and trying to sleep on a cot where they probably had sex?” Kylo doesn’t consider himself a prude, but the idea is a bit much for him.

“No. Well, maybe. But I meant, that you’re back with the Resistance.”

   “I’m not with Resistance,” he says automatically. Rey dislodges herself a little to look up at him, eyes dark and serious, so he adds in a softer tone: “I’m not with anyone.” That was the point of all of this. 

“You’re with the First Order.”

“I—” He thinks of his Knights. Of his Council. Of what they tried to accomplish within the galaxy, something new and better. Then he thinks of Hux and those he commands, of his Generals. The Order is now a mess of factions, and Kylo most definitely does not plan to align with most of them. “No. I’m not.”

Rey’s lips tighten. “You don’t seem so sure of it.”

“I’m here. Am I not?” He’s not going to hide his reluctance from her. The link in his mind is open, and he’s not going to be the one to close it. She can help herself to whatever she wishes inside his mind. 

“Will you go back to them, though?” Rey bites into her lip. “After Hux is taken care of. When you and your Knights are reunited.”

   Truly, Kylo has no idea. What he used to want, and what he wants now….

He sighs, pushing Rey’s face back into his neck, feeling the bond and his nerve endings hum with the pleasure of having her so close to him. They fit together so well, for being so different; the Force must be having a hand in this. 

For now, all that matters to him is keeping her alive. “I don’t know.”

“You’re not… Ben. You’re not like that. Like them.”

_I am worse_ , he means to say. _You have no idea. You called me a monster, and you still have no idea._ “Go to sleep, Rey.”

He is actively pressing her down and into himself, but Rey has a long history of being stronger than he gave her credit for. Since the very beginning. She frees herself and lifts herself up, leaning on his chest, and this is too close for him to think properly. He can feel her mind press against his, and has to force himself not to just let her in. 

“I don’t want to sleep.”

“You said you were tired and that we should both—”

“I don’t want to sleep,” she repeats, staring him in the eyes.

_She knows it, too_ , he thinks. _She is worried about the mission. That it could go wrong._

“What do you want, then?”

“This could be it. There could be the last time we…” She shakes her head. “Because I die, or—” her voice breaks “—or _you_ die, or because you go back to the Order. And I don’t want to. I don’t want to—”

“No.” Kylo briefly closes his eyes. What an _extraordinarily_ stupid idea, this was. “No, Rey.”

“You don’t mean it.”

“You don’t even know what you’re—”

It shouldn’t take him by surprise, the kiss. Nor the way she slides her hands in his hair to hold his head and flattens her lips against his.  

It’s _barely_ a kiss, really. 

It’s terrifying.

Kylo leans back to look at her. “Fuck, Rey.” 

She is not breathing normally. “I know you wanted me to do it. It’s in your head—they all are. The things you want me to do.” 

He shakes his head. As it turns out, he can’t breathe very well, either. “This is the worst idea either of us has ever had.” And they have both had _so many_. 

As usual, Rey surprises him and smiles. “You mean, worse than that time we decided to take on Snoke’s guard? All _eight_ of them?”

He has to smile back. “I was thinking about that time we decided to have it out on a imploding star.”

“Do you remember on Hoth? When you chased me with your ship through that weird cave?”

“You mean, when you _made me_ chase you?”

“Mmm.” 

Without him realizing it—no, he realized alright, he just didn’t stop her—she has shifted until she’s on top of him, hands on his chest as she looks down at him. The cover she had wrapped around herself is now hanging from her shoulders, shielding them from the cold and the rest of the galaxy, forming a private shrine of sorts. All too easy to forget common sense, when all he can see and feel is her. 

“We made it through all our other bad ideas,” she’s saying, a little breathless. “Maybe we should give this one a fair chance, too?”

There is no way she doesn’t know how hard she has made him. Just by being here, slipping in and out of his mind. Just by existing. 

“I think we shouldn’t—”

The kiss is better than the last one—possibly because this time she parts her lips, and artless but resolute, she coaxes him to do the same, and then slides her tongue just a bit inside his mouth, just enough to lick him. It’s—messy. Very messy. And wet. Kylo whimpers, wonders approximately how long he has before coming in his pants and making all of this even messier.

Rey’s hands slide in his hair. “Ben.” 

_This is fine_ , he tells himself, trying to hold on. _It’s a kiss. Just a kiss_. He has kissed people before. Just because this is Rey, it doesn’t need to be the end of the world. It doesn’t have to lead to him losing every last inch of control. Except that—

“You need to stop wiggling,” he tells her, a little disconcerted by how rusty his voice sounds. 

“Why?” she asks into his throat.

“Because.”

“You don’t want me to stop.”

“Rey…”

“It’s in your head. I can see it like I’m thinking it myself—you want me to be naked, and to take my hair down, and you wonder, if I were to suck on you, how warm and tight my mouth would feel on your—”

He tries—he actually tries to slam the bond shut. He tries to shove her out, because he has all of this in his mind and even more, and she cannot possibly know that—

“—and you hope that I am wet down there. You hope I’m very wet, because that would make it easier for you to—Ah. You want to hold me down and put your cock inside me and hold it there and come as deep as you can, and sometimes you think about making a baby out of it and going elsewhere, just the three of us, and forgetting about—”

Kylo flips them so that he’s on top of her, and covers her mouth with his hand. If she’s anchored inside his brain so far down that he can’t kick her out, at least this way he’ll make her stop saying these things to him.

Rey—she just laughs. And shimmies her hips under him so that he’s perfectly slotted to—

Horrible idea.

“ _Shit_. I—”

She wriggles free of his hand. “You can, you know?”

“Rey. Rey, if you continue I—”

She is moving her hip and biting her lips, and he can feel through their link how pleasant the friction is, how wet their clothes are getting, how bruising his grip on her hips, her ass. “You can fuck me. You can come inside me. As deep as you want. And you can stay for as long as you like, and once you’ve made me wet enough you can—”

Kylo thinks that he’s the one who comes. He comes and comes, and just like he knows how sore her nipples are against the rough cloth of her top, how tightly-strung her muscles, she must be feeling his spine as it liquifies into his orgasm. Because she comes, too, and it seems to last whole minutes, the two of them sharing the pleasure like it’s what they were born to do.

“ _Fuck_. Rey.”

When it seems to be almost over he flips them again, because he’s a beast and too heavy for her, and cups her face to his throat. She is breathing loudly in his ear, little mewling sounds that keep Kylo as hard as a pike.

“I think—” She bursts into laughter. “I think this... it was a great idea.”

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Fuck, in less than ten hours they’ll be flying towards what’s probably their death.

Fuck, what just happened makes the thought around ten times more unbearable.

Fuck, he wants to do it again. And again. And again.

“No, Rey. No, it wasn’t.”

“Possibly the first good idea we’ve had.”

He hugs her tighter to himself.

“Rey.”

“Though it was mainly my idea, so I shouldn’t let you take credit for—”

“Be quiet. Please, just be be quiet for a moment. I can’t think when you…”

He can’t focus. He can’t guard himself. He can only think of her, and this is a disaster. This might be unsolvable. Rey must understand, because she settles on him with a deep sigh, and remains silent for long minutes, playing with the line of his jaw and the curve of his ear.

“You are so handsome.”

“I’m not.”

“I thought so from the very beginning. When I knew I should hate you.”

He shakes his head. This—it’s impossible. He will take her away. He will hide her somewhere and complete his mission alone, and she will be safe, safe because of him and safe from him, and he—

“What about with me?”

Kylo thinks that his brain must have short-circuited beyond repair. Because he has no idea what she’s saying.

“What?”

“You said you don’t want to be with the Resistance or with the First Order.” 

“I don’t want to talk about—”

“What about me?”

He bends his head, and finds her staring up at him.

“What about with me? Ben, what if we…”

Rey averts her eyes elsewhere. 

_What about with me._

For the first time since his grandfather’s lightsaber broke in two in front of him, he feels _something_ that is not his usual impulse to burn to the ground, to annihilate and destroy.

_Hope_ , his mother would say. _There is no night that can defeat it._

Kylo presses her further into himself, until he can feel the hot chuff of her breath on his throat.

“I don’t know, Rey.” Down the corridor of the Falcon, something beeps and then buzzes. The environmental systems are functional again. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr](https://ever-so-reylo.tumblr.com/), or on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/EverSoReylo?lang=en)! ♡♡♡


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